


Very Good

by amyfortuna



Series: 2015 Season of Kink (Card 1) [6]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Come Eating, Cousin Incest, Dom/sub Play, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 16:13:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4883383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fingon wakes Maedhros up for sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Very Good

**Author's Note:**

> This fulfils my Season of Kink square for Doms & Subs.

Fingon dropped the small vial of oil onto the bedside table, where it clattered noisily and by some miracle did not break. His slick fingers probed at Maedhros' arse, and Maedhros took the hint, raising himself up on his elbow and parting his thighs further so that Fingon could get at him. 

"That's it, come on, want to be inside you," Fingon said, his other hand on Maedhros' hip. The night was dark without a hint of moon, and clouds covered the stars. Their bed was illuminated only by the light of a dying fire on the other side of the room, and Fingon had awakened Maedhros from sleep minutes earlier with a long slow bite to the back of his neck as they lay spooned together, Fingon's leg thrown over Maedhros' thighs, his arousal apparent. 

Maedhros was not even hard yet, and Fingon hadn't touched him. But the very implication of being so used, of just being something that Fingon could fuck if and when he wanted to - in this short space of time that was granted to them - was itself undeniably erotic, and Fingon's fingers stretching him, pressing inside him, so familiar, so longed-for, were getting him hard quickly enough. 

Fingon was not going to ask; he was just going to _take_ , and for that very reason alone, Maedhros found himself trembling with anticipation, desperate for it. 

"Ah - so hot - so tight - so ready for me," Fingon breathed, pushing in, bringing his hand, still slick with oil, to Maedhros' cock, and rubbing up and down it, once, twice. And then he stopped - Maedhros groaned softly - and put his hand on Maedhros' hip, pressing as deep as he could go inside him. "Can't get enough of fucking you," he went on. "And I know the same is true of you - you'd do anything I told you to, you'd kneel for me and suck me off, let me fuck you anywhere I liked, bend you over the highest battlements of Himring if I desired it."

"Yes," Maedhros breathed. "Yes, for you, anything at all, anything you want." What set his heart racing was the fact that it was entirely true, not just talk. A year ago, Fingon had indeed fucked him on top of the highest tower of Himring, both of them facing north in defiance, Fingon bringing Maedhros to the point of orgasm and then demanding that he scream out his most violent and creative invectives against Morgoth before he would let him come. Maedhros had subsisted on that memory alone during the months when Fingon was not with him.

But now Fingon was here, a bright presence behind him in the darkness, thrusting into him, using him in the way he always longed for. He reached down for his own cock and began to wrap his hand around it, but Fingon batted him away. "Don't touch. Want to come in you first, then if you're very good..." He let the sentence trail off, and Maedhros shivered with delight at the implication. 

His world narrowed down to Fingon: his cock deep inside, his arm now wrapped firmly around Maedhros' chest, holding him steady as he ploughed him like a field, his mouth, pressed against Maedhros' shoulder, now kissing and licking him tenderly, now biting him hard, leaving bruises. He was flying under Fingon's touch, and there was nothing in the world that mattered outside of their bed and this perfect all-consuming love. There were no sounds but Fingon's words and gasps against him, there was no sensation but that which Fingon was making him feel, there was no smell or taste of anything but Fingon, himself, and the love they made together, no sight but Fingon so bright and warm against him. 

Deep inside him, Fingon shuddered and spent, gasping for breath, head resting against Maedhros' shoulder. 

Maedhros waited, feeling as though he was suspended in a moment of time. His own arousal was a secondary thing; he was suffused with pleasure at the way Fingon had just _used_ him, at the way Fingon had _needed_ him. 

Fingon stayed inside him, somehow still hard, and reached down to take Maedhros' cock in his hand. It wouldn't take much to bring him off, and Maedhros tightened, unwilling to have Fingon slip out of him. 

But Fingon knew what he needed, always knew what he wanted, and stayed pressed inside him, punctuating the movement of his hand up and down Maedhros' cock with tiny strokes of his hips, calculated to bring Maedhros pleasure. And Fingon's words, too, brought him pleasure.

"My Maedhros," Fingon said softly, voice very gentle and low. "Always mine, whatever name you may be given, first and foremost in every tongue you shall be mine." He broke off for a moment to kiss Maedhros' shoulder. "Now then, spill for me, my obedient one, my _very good_ beloved." 

Maedhros obeyed, gasping into his pillow and spilling into Fingon's hand. Fingon smiled against his shoulder and carefully slipped out of him. "Turn over," he instructed, and Maedhros did so. Fingon brought his hand up to Maedhros' mouth, the request clear. Maedhros licked it clean. 

And Fingon, finally, warmly, kissed his mouth.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Bright Defiance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5714239) by [amyfortuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna)




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